


now it's too late to go (i'll get you through it)

by lonelier_version_of_you



Category: Holby City
Genre: (though not explicitly stated because it's the '80s lol), Angst, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Autistic Henrik Hanssen, Ficlet, Hurt/Comfort, John is fucked up, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, but Henrik and John are also sleep deprived in this fic, but here it's actually Sort Of Relevant, he's autistic in all my fics (and in canon too obviously), so if they're OOC then fuck it, so is Henrik for that matter but it's John who gets the brunt of the angst here, we're all a little OOC when we're sleep deprived aren't we
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 05:02:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19222135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonelier_version_of_you/pseuds/lonelier_version_of_you
Summary: Henrik can't sleep, and John is having a bad night. Set in '87/OMAHG era.





	now it's too late to go (i'll get you through it)

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know. the idea of Henrik finding John crying one night during their uni days, John not explaining, and them never mentioning it again afterwards just kept calling for me to write it. I don't think this is very good but oh well. I'm projecting onto both characters here tbh but I don't even care.
> 
> also, yes, any parallels with that scene in The Three Musketeers are probably deliberate. and idk how obvious it is, but I should note that John's so upset because of memories from his childhood. I know from experience of trauma that it all just gets Too Much™ sometimes and that can be very overwhelming and hard to deal with. (again, this is a mostly-shameless projection fic lol.)
> 
> title is from The Kids Are All Fucked Up by Cobra Starship. it's a very '80s!Johnrik song in my opinion. I'd highly recommend giving it a listen, both for that reason and because it's a good song.

Henrik leans against the wall of the university building and takes another drag from his cigarette.

After nearly an hour of tossing and turning, he finally gave up on sleep, so now he’s outside, searching for a distraction of sorts from all the thoughts in his head keeping him awake.

He’s idly observing the night sky when he hears a sound from around the side of the building, something that sounds like a muffled sob.

Concerned about the potential origin of the noise, he moves closer to where it seems to be coming from, and sees a figure in the shadows – someone curled in on themselves, it seems. There’s another barely-repressed cry, followed by a gasp, and as Henrik gets closer he realises just who it is.

“Henrik?” says a quiet, cracking voice.

“John? What on Earth are you doing out here this late?” Henrik questions. He’s getting quite worried, now; he hasn’t seen John this upset since… since _that night_.

“Who are you to talk about being out late?” John deflects, somewhat more confidently than when he last spoke.

Henrik’s cigarette has mostly burnt away now. He’s fairly certain he won’t be getting any more use out of it, so he stamps it out. “John, what’s wrong?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” is all John says in reply. He raises his hand up to his cheek and wipes away a tear.

Henrik sighs and curses under his breath. He wonders if John’s doing that thing people do, where they don’t tell him things and then expect him to know them anyway, as if he’s supposed to be telepathic. “Maybe not,” he begins, “but I’ll do my best to understand. Just tell me.”

“You can’t… you just _wouldn’t_ understand,” John’s voice cracks again. He sounds like he’s about to start crying.

Henrik nods, and hums in sympathy, unsure of what’s left to say if John won’t tell him what the matter is. He could try to reassure him, toss out every platitude he knows, say ‘ _it’s okay, John_ ’, but it – whatever ‘it’ is – is very clearly _not_ okay if John’s so upset, so what would be the point?

He sits down next to his friend, instead. “I’m here,” he says, tentatively, because that’s the only thing he can offer right now that isn’t an obvious lie. He holds out his hand.

John not only accepts the physical reassurance, but practically collapses, still gasping for breath and forcing back sobs, into Henrik’s arms.

Henrik nearly pulls back in surprise, not having expected John – John ‘Don’t-Touch-Me’ Gaskell, as some other students have nicknamed him – to actually react that way, but before his instinct of shock takes over, he realises John might blame himself for the rejection. (It wouldn’t be the first time John has blamed himself for something that he had nothing to do with.)

So rather than pulling back, he gently puts his arms around John and just sits with him. He doesn’t know when this is going to pass, but he doesn’t have any classes to go to or any studying that truly requires doing tonight, so he’ll wait here and give John whatever comfort he can for as long as he needs to.


End file.
